Baby Grands Alice In Wonderland Edition
by Serenitychan13
Summary: A prompt series from a LiveJournal community, each story precisely one thousand words long, counted by Microsoft Word. Mostly Alice/Hatter. Rating M to be on the safe side, for later chapters. Latest chapter, Ring - rated T.
1. Poison

_**Disclaimer:**_ **I don't own Alice In Wonderland! I own this fic, but that's it. Oh, and that collection of old glass bottles on my desk. Yeah, that's mine too. And those action figures and quite a few stuffed animals. The bed is mine too, but the cat thinks it's hers... go figure.  
**

_**A Brief Author's Note: **_**Here, we have the first fic in the LJ 10_prompts community's Table 11 and the start of a new series of Baby Grands. If you haven't read my Repo! or my Sanctuary fics of these titles, let me explain. A thousand is sometimes colloquially referred to as a "grand". The "baby" bit comes from the term "ficlet," which just brings to mind the image of baby fanfics.**

1 - Poison

"You aren't wearing a corset!" the voice of her mother scolded in her memory. "And where are your stockings!?"

"Hamish has very delicate digestion, you know," as Lady Ascot twaddled on about her precious pasty-faced son's potential to come down with a blockage.

Identical smarmy female faces floated in the forefront of her sleeping mind. Alice scrunched up her nose and turned over in bed, tangling the covers around her legs. She saw again her loyal sister's rotten husband in a close embrace with some other gentleman's wife. Once more, she kicked herself for not blowing the whistle on him the instant she stumbled upon them, tact and ladylikeness be damned! The same sister nattered at her about marrying the young Lord Ascot, telling her how she wouldn't have her pretty face forever.

Alice mumbled in her sleep and swiped at her itchy nose with one hand. More images floated through her head. She saw herself stretched out on her back in one of Marmoreal's magnificent gardens, no corset and _no stockings_. Three Bloodhound puppies, soft and wrinkly, cuddled up with her and they all took a gorgeous snooze in the soft sunlight. She watched herself casually ducking out of the way of yet another flying sugar bowl and giggled in her sleep. How often she had thought of simply chucking her mother's horrid old china out the window!

Her dreaming ears heard a million "Stop's", "Don't's", and "No's". Then, louder still, she heard her own voice screaming back "Please!" She thought of everything she had ever truly wanted to do, whether it was wear trousers, or fly, or just kick off her shoes and chase rabbits through the garden. If it promised to bring her real joy in life, there was someone there to tell her she couldn't have it.

Her mother called her scandalous, while her sister took the so-called gentle approach in reminding her just how ugly she would be in a few short years. What was so wrong with not wanting to marry a stuffy fart of a lord who only wanted to dance quadrilles in trousers!? In the Queen's name, who decided what was to be declared "fashionable" on any given day. Who was to say that someday it would _not _be the fashion to wear a codfish upon one's head? She smiled in her sleep, a rather goofy smile, as she thought of some day's men wearing each a cod_piece_ upon his head.

What in the world would they think of that? What if she had said that to her mother? Or perhaps she might have asked it to her sister? Or to that foul Lady Ascot!? She could imagine the woman sinking to the ground, not really having fainted, but demanding the attention. Her dream self caught the elder Lord Ascot's secretly twinkling eye. He would call her a cheeky young lady, intending it as an endearment – a fatherly way of putting it, for sure, but it still reeked of disapproval.

Alice turned over in her sleep again, sending a pillow slouching to the floor, and a stream of nonsense syllables tumbled from her lips. One of the Bloodhound pups flicked a velvety ear as the cushion landed on his tail, which stuck out from under the bed. The girl's brow crinkled in dreaming consternation – who was even Lord Ascot to call her a cheeky little girl? Who was he to say that she had not the right to be cheeky!? She scrubbed at her cheek with one hand, ridding herself of the small collection of drool at the corner of her lips.

Her mind continued to work on itself. "Wherefores" and "What-ifs" spun through her head like clucking chickens caught in a whirlpool. She imagined each chicken to have the face of someone in London. Yes, that was all they could do – cluck at her. All of them did it, spent their entire lives cluck, cluck, clucking like old hens. Useless noise, that's all it ever was, she realized. Why didn't she think about it before? What stopped her from seeing the truth?

Things were simple when she was a child, when her father was alive. He was like a tonic, like something good that fed a little girl's wonder and imaginitude. Whenever he would come in to reassure her about her nightmares – even then, she had been trained to think of them as nightmares – she always felt better. She knew they weren't _really _bad dreams, but for the sake of keeping Mummy from nagging, she had to pretend that they were.

Her father had been a wise man, she now realized. He knew being 'round the twist wasn't half as bad as everyone said it was. Aunt Imogen, as sad a figure as she cut, actually seemed to have it best of everyone up there in the Upperlands – no matter what, she would believe that her prince was coming for her.

So when had she, Alice, given in to the demands of the Tweedles around her? She thought of the twin girls who had been at her almost-engagement. Even between them, they couldn't claim a whole and functioning brain. Alice was nothing like them, and to them, that was strange, even wrong. But she had tried her best to fit in, even if she had to do things like "forget" her corset and refuse to wear stockings. It really had pained her to disappoint her dear Mummy so and to make her good sister worry – but was it really their worry and disappointment that hurt?

No! She decided – not at all! That was just them keeping her in line. They didn't care what she thought or how she felt. As long as she looked and danced and acted and walked and talked and smelled like everyone else, dancing the same quadrille, that was all that mattered. It had been no small wonder that she ran away from them! They were killing her!

The people she had grown up around were poison.


	2. Colours

_**Disclaimer:**_ **Oh yes, of course… I don't see why we have to go through this. It isn't mine.**

_**A Brief Author's Note: **_**And now, number 2 in the LJ 10_prompts community's Table 11 and a thousand words of smut. This one is rated M. So if you're under 18, or whatever the legal age is in your area, or are offended by sex, I strongly suggest you leave now.**

2 - Colours

Those colours couldn't possibly exist in Nature. But they existed now, in Underland, at Marmoreal, in her bed, behind her closed eyes. They were brighter, deeper, much more of everything than they would be in the Upperlands. Close to everything there that she could remember had been some dreary shade of brown or grey. How people lived in a world without such brilliant colours now was beyond her, where before she could not have imagined this.

"And what might ye be thank'n, yeh naughty thing?" a deep burr rumbled in her ear, lips barely touching sensitive skin.

Rough fingers threaded into her hair and she forgot to answer as she saw five different shades of green. Her neck arched gracefully and his free hand stroked her soft skin, raising gooseflesh on her arms. Emeralds, jades, Seafoam and chartreuse clashed in her private vision. The truest green, though, shone from his eyes as her lashes fluttered and she met his lusty gaze.

When his lips met hers, she found more reds than she could count, one in particular the shade of tomatoes caught on fire. His tongue slid against her lower lip, needful of access, which she granted gladly. Her moan earned one from him in return. His closed eyes turned the same color as her mind's eye's fire and he tightened his grip on her, growling quietly.

When she whimpered at his sudden forcefulness, he laid her back easily. The fire in her mind turned blue – the hottest flame. For a moment, his touch left her and she let out a soft whine. She heard him chortle and cracked her eyes open, watching intently as he tossed his vest across the room. The shirt slipped from his shoulders as he took care of the last button. He leaned down beside her, delicately undoing each button down the front of her soft cloud-blue nightdress. The feel of his chest, bare against hers, showed her jewel-like and electric blues… Her eyes fell closed again.

When her eyes cracked open, oranges and yellows kept changing their hues. She had squirmed and panted as those lips worked their way down her body. His first touch between her legs caused her eyes to fly open. Now, she watched him intently as his eyes turned almost the same color as his hair, only a few shades of orange-red darker. His tongue worked wonders in places she had never even thought about! After not terribly long, she couldn't keep her eyes open another moment and let her head fall back, the sound of her own keening moans causing her vision to go up in flames once more.

"Alice, look at me," his voice broke into her colorful thoughts, the rough burr gone.

Her eyes slid half-open. She realized she was trembling, completely unclothed, in his arms. How long had she laid there? She didn't bother wondering for long, just rested her head, curls mussed adorably, against his chest. The Hatter ran careful fingers up and down her back, feeling the perfect curvature as she curled her body against his. If he wasn't a different sort of careful, though, she was going to end up ending this experience far too soon for either of them to fully appreciate.

"Wake up, Alice," he encouraged. "We're not nearly through here."

Her eyes widened, beautiful blue meeting wild golden-green, and she took in his mischievous grin – she smiled back, at least pretending to be ready for whatever he might surprise her with! A pool of all the colours she had seen so far tonight formed in the front of her mind. They were all lovely and pale, but no less beautiful or vivid than they had been before. Tarrant's arms encircled her and his hand once more tangled itself in her hair. Her eyes fluttered open for a single moment, long enough for her to whisper a "yes" when he asked her:

"Do you want this, Alice? Do you wish to court madness tonight?"

And her eyes shut again. She squeezed them tight as his lips found the sensitive spot behind her ear and the feeling of his breath raised gooseflesh on her arms. The pool of colours started to change shape, the colours becoming brighter. Slowly at first, he slid himself inside her – she yelped, clenching her eyes tighter still for a moment. But she relaxed as his mouth returned to hers, the tip of his tongue slipping between her lips, mimicking the carnal motion of his hips. Harder, faster – neither one of them cared anymore that it hurt – he drove himself into her.

"Tarrant!" she panted, her fingernails scoring the flesh of his back like ten rakes as she clung to him. "Oh!"

Coherent speech didn't matter. She could hear him panting as well, vocalizing a moan on the occasion that her body decided to tighten on him, outside her control. Her eyes shut tighter, squeezing tears out the corners. Soft lips captured the little drops before they made it halfway down her cheeks. In a moment, she wondered if the colors might go on fire.

He kept one arm wrapped 'round her shoulders, pulling him against him as his other hand slid down her body to rest between her legs. His fingers visited the place his mouth had already worked so much magic. Alice moaned and squirmed, every sound obscene and wonderful. She felt herself burning inside. The colors danced before her eyes – she felt something extreme happening inside her body. She heard Tarrant's voice, his growled command, and as the colors caught fire, she screamed.


	3. Sweat

_**Disclaimer:**_ **Okay, if you people think Alice in Wonderland is mine, you're madder than the Hatter and Hare combined. Now, now! Stop that! The next bloody lunatic to throw a teacup at me goes out of the window! It ain't mine, I tell ya!**

_**A Brief Author's Note: **_**Here, we have the third in the LJ 10_prompts community's Table 11 and one thousand words. This one really comes from the heart. See, I live in Georgia and the summers are BRUTAL. And the air really does smell like wet dog breath on some days, 'specially if you live near a body of water or a paper mill – which I do.**

Sweat

"Horses sweat, Alice," her mother had corrected sharply one painfully hot, poisonously humid day. "Men perspire. Ladies glow."

_No_, she thought fiercely. Women could sweat. Alice knew it well. Summer had come to Underland – a burning, boiling, blistering summer. The air itself stank like Bayard's breath in the morning. The Hound lay stretched out, panting, under a drooping rosebush. His pups fought each other – nipping ears and tails with sharp puppy-teeth – over scraps of shade. Their care-worn mother growled ominously when a scuffle came too close to her staked claim beside a garden shed. The Cheshire Cat curled like a fuzzy meatloaf in a tree, glaring malevolently at anyone who looked his way and twitching his tail.

Thackery switched to iced tea, which calmed him down a bit. The Bandersnatch turned fretfully on his back in his stable, itching. Mallymkun ceased challenging people to mouse-duels and spent her days inside a teapot, sulking. No one knew where the Hatter disappeared to. Even Queen Mirana wilted a slight fraction. Days seemed to last longer in Underland, and no one saw relief coming anytime soon.

Sweat dripped down Alice's body, causing her filmy sky-blue dress, a gift from her beloved Hatter, to stick to her uncomfortably. She opened every window, pulled her hair up, took it down, put it back again, and stood in the icebox until Thackery threw a fish at her. Queen Mirana, determinedly serene, suggested a walk across the grounds. Moments like this reminded Alice: even the comparatively-sane Queen was mad too. But anything was better than sitting in her bedchamber, roasting and miserable.

"Yes, Majesty," she agreed, lacking anything constructive to do.

There was no breeze – only sun, more sun, and the stench of wet dog breath permeating everyone's nostrils. Queen Mirana glided along in full regalia, poised and beautiful as if the heat couldn't touch her. Alice, on the other hand, looked rumpled, sweaty, and quite put out. She felt her skin tingle unpleasantly under the day-star's rays. Her skirt clung to her legs and the bodice of her dress rubbed and pinched in places she would rather not think about.

"Where are we going, Majesty?" she asked when the radiant Queen led her down an unfamiliar path.

She received only an enigmatic smile and wanted to roll her eyes, but the heat hadn't gotten the better of her yet! The two women continued down the slightly-overgrown path until Alice heard running water. Was there a fountain? And for goodness' sake, if they were going to look at fountains, why not one closer to the castle! Queen Mirana practically shimmered as she rounded a hedge's corner – Alice followed, still wondering what the mystic woman had in mind.

There, perfect and placid, lay a pond fed by a creek – a small waterfall tied the whole thing together like a painting.

"Your Majesty, where are we?" inquired Alice.

The White Queen looked mischievous.

"Could you help me with this, Alice?" she asked in reply, attempting to open the back of her dress – her corset wouldn't quite let her arms go that way.

"I beg your pardon?"

Queen Mirana tilted her head.

"Have you never been wading before?"

"No, never," replied Alice.

"Well if you did, would you go in a dress?" the Queen queried.

Alice glanced skyward in thought.

"No, Majesty, I suppose I wouldn't."

The Queen actually giggled.

"Then get out of that sticky thing and help me with this, if you please!" she encouraged, undoing three buttons. Alice, figuring the heat had overtaken them both, hurried over and helped her with the rest. Mirana, White Queen of Underland, climbed out of her petticoats, kicked off her shoes, pulled off her stockings, and splashed into the pond in her chemise! Alice peeled off her sticky, sweat-soaked dress, carefully folded it, and set beside her own shoes.

"Do come in, Alice," called the Queen, looking quite silly in her chemise and crown. "The water is fine!"

Alice stood for a moment, flabbergasted. But she snapped out of it, shrieking, when ice-cold water splashed her front. Queen Mirana smiled innocently. Could one splash a Queen in Underland? Alice wondered. As more icy water soaked her sweat-frizzed curls, she decided to find out and charged into the water in nothing but her slip! Soon, the two giggled and splashed each other, grateful for relief from the heat and someone to have fun with.

Neither noticed the eerie, slit-pupiled eyes watching them from a nearby tree. Silently, the eyes' owner evaporated and re-appeared in a room smelling strongly of mercury and other . . . fumes. There stood the Hatter, in sockfeet and shirtsleeves, prodding uselessly at a hat that looked too much like a dead chicken, muttering. The Cat laughed raspily at him.

"Ah, good morning, Chessur!" greeted the Hatter. "Fancy seeing you here!"

The Cat grinned wider than normal.

"Follow me, Tarrant Hightopp!" he commanded, wafting himself towards the door, half-evaporated. The Hatter, tired of poking the dead-chicken hat, did so. The Cat made sure to head for the kitchen, where they picked up Thackery and Mallymkun. As they strode through the courtyard, Bayard's pups followed curiously, trailed by Bielle, then Bayard himself. Not much roused the Cheshire Cat on such a day, so it had to be good! They followed the same path.

The hovering Cat stopped at the clearing. Everyone behind him ran into each other, clambering to see up front. The Hatter caught Mallymkun as she toppled off his shoulder, his eyes bugging out more than normal. In joyful abandon, the pups hurtled forward, racing to be first in the water. Queen Mirana and Alice shrieked and dodged splashing puppies. Bielle stopped for a drink before sticking her front paws in, while Bayard collapsed, a-snooze in the shade.

By the time they all trooped back to the castle, everyone was soaked, nicely tired, and smiling. The heat went down at night. They would all sweat just as much tomorrow, but somehow, the prospect didn't seem so bad.


	4. Hold Your Breath

_**Disclaimer:**_ **Nothing in this fic, whether Wonderland-related or anything alluded to, is mine. I mean, I own the idea for these thousand words, but that's it. Also, I own the intense desire to hear Johnny Depp say that line...  
**

_**A Brief Author's Note: **_**Number 4 in the LJ 10_prompts community's Table 11 and my personal favorite of these Baby Grands so far! If any of you would like to draw this out for me, I'll write a Baby Grand on the subject of your choosing.  
**

4 - Hold Your Breath

He had become quite secretive, spending most of the time shut up in his room, with only his occasional raving to announce his presence there. A few hours turned into days, which turned into whole weeks. Alice tried with increasing frustration to figure out what went on behind that door – twisting the knob, she found it locked, and banging on said door just caused the knob to swear at her. Asking Queen Mirana gained only maddeningly inconclusive answers. Most individuals questioned simply insisted the Hatter tended to go on like this once in a while.

"Perhaps he has found himself a difficult project?" suggested the White Queen, in that sweet, beautiful, and altogether irritating tone that suggested she knew everything. "More intricate than any of us might guess!"

_All right – enough is enough,_ thought Alice. He had been shut up in there for a month and, by any means necessary, she set her sights on getting to the bottom of it. She had gone more bonkers in the past month than one ought reasonably to go, even by the standards of Underland! What in the Queen's name had he got going in there that had to be such a bloody secret? Having worked herself into a decent froth, she stood up from her chair in the library and charged out the heavy door.

"Were you raised in a barn!?" the door called after her, irritably swinging itself shut.

She even found herself desperate enough to try wrenching something bordering on a reasonable answer from Thackery. Opening the door carefully, she waited for the inevitable flying kitchen implement, watching the meat-fork spear itself into the wall before entering. The crazed hare hopped about on a cutting board, fencing an invisible opponent with a large shin bone. When he saw her, the bone went flying and he hid behind a pile of cabbages. Alice tapped her foot and waited patiently for him to wrap up his shenanigans.

"Mr. Earwicket, kindly settle down enough to answer me a question?" she inquired in the serene-est voice she could manage.

"Quills!" he bellowed, peeping over the cabbage to lob an egg at her.

She watched the egg hit the wall, over a splatter that looked like it might have originated from an extremely old artichoke, and rolled her eyes.

"All I wanted to know is why Tarrant has been shut in his room for a month!" she explained, exasperated with him. Settling her tone, she tried again. "Have you any idea what he might be working on?"

Instead of an answer, she heard hysterical giggling and everything but his ears disappeared behind the cabbage. Spinning on her heel, she stormed out of the kitchen, ready to march straight to the Hatter's room and demand some answers. However, her foot caught something large and furry – she heard a yelp.

"Oh Bayard, I do apologize!" she exclaimed.

"No harm done," the Bloodhound replied easily. "I have a message, Alice, from Mr. Hightopp and I suspect it's one you're high overdue for."

Alice growled something unrepeatable under her breath, which the Hound pretended not to notice, and then thanked him. He asked her to follow him, which she did without question. They wound through what had to be most of the White Palace, Bayard's incomparable nose leading the way. After a quarter-hour of walking in companionable silence, they came to a door. It wasn't the Hatter's door, but the Hound insisted they were in the right place.

"Go on in, Alice," he instructed, turning to sniff his way back.

If she didn't know better, she would have thought she saw the same _knowing_ in his eyes that she had seen in Queen Mirana's. Instead of stewing about it, though, she approached the door, a beautiful creation – marble, instead of wood – and reached for the doorknob. For a moment, she hesitated, trying to hear anything that might warn her as to what she would find inside. Of course, the marble blocked out any sound. The moment her hand touched the knob, the door swung slowly open of its own accord.

"Close your eyes," a familiar voice told her.

Her irritation mostly left her, replaced by curiosity – she closed her eyes.

"Hold your breath."

She took a deep, slow breath and held it, her eyes still closed.

"Make a wish."

Not exhaling, she made a wish inside her head and nodded slowly to indicate she had done it. She could hear him moving about the room. Her chest felt mildly tight, but she held her breath.

"Count to three."

_One…_

_Two…_

_Three…_

She counted in her head, nodding on each count - there came a short pause and she felt lightheaded.

"Open your eyes, Alice."

Her breath returned to her in one quick gasp. Before her, on a milliner's display stand, lay his most beautiful piece. A white band barely large enough to be called a hat curved gracefully away from the crown of the head. The finest lace she had ever seen spilled from that band, almost like a frozen waterfall, but somehow softer. She could have sworn she saw diamonds winking at her – looking closer again, she found herself correct!

"Tarrant, this is a wedding veil," she said softly. Her tone changed, though. "Is Queen Mirana getting married?"

He shook his head, his eyes alight.

"It's for you."

Alice's mouth worked silently for a moment, her heart in a knot.

"What need have I for a wedding veil?" she asked, voice shaking.

The shocking orange brows knitted together, the Hatter deep in thought.

"Oh yes!" he cried out, eyes brightening. "How silly of me!"

Alice held her breath unbidden. There he was, Tarrant Hightopp, the Mad Hatter of Underland, dropping to one knee. His hand disappeared into one of many pockets. Triumphant, bandaged fingers held up their prize for a moment – a small, black velvet box. Alice felt herself getting lightheaded again as he opened it, eyes shining. He took a deep breath.

"Alice, will you marry me?"


	5. Give

_**Disclaimer:**_ **I own nothing that is not mine. Seriously – I own a small Hello Kitty figurine and a tower of Dr. Pepper cans. **

_**A Brief Author's Note: **_**We're halfway through the LJ 10_prompts community's Table 11! The idea for this fic is how I might like my own wedding to go if, heaven forbid, I should ever get married!**

5 - Give

_Who would give the bride away?_ The question buzzed through Castle Marmoreal for weeks. Courtiers of any world never minded their own business and weddings were always splendid topics for juicy gossip. It had started amongst the flowers – _mouthy little weeds, the lot of them_, Alice thought uncharitably when a giggling Daisy hid its face as she walked past. Unlike most girls where she came from, her wedding had not been at the forefront of her mind since day one. She preferred to dream of things like pirates, princes, and evaporating pussycats. When the question of who would "give her away" confronted her, she wasn't sure what to say.

In the Upperlands, girls belonged to their fathers until they were passed along in a ceremony that seemed more like a business transaction. They called that marriage – some poor, empty-headed lass traded to some man in exchange for something her father wanted. And as horrible as some husbands could be, better a horrible husband than none at all. She thought of Aunt Imogen, waiting for a fiancée who would never come. The old woman was held up to Alice every time marriage got mentioned as a prime example of the "or else" factor.

Very vaguely, she remembered Father and Mummy talking about her future. Mummy planned from the very start that Alice should marry well. The discussions never sat well with Father, who insisted that those things came in due time. What did "marry well" mean? The young Alice had wondered – did that mean she should be good at getting married? From the weddings she remembered going to as a child, she hadn't thought it should be very hard. The bride walked down a long aisle, smiled, and said "I do" after listening to an old church-man waffle on for a while. She supposed it must have been easy, since nearly everyone did it.

She tilted her head, and then snapped from thought as Mallymkun fussed at her to hold still, stamping a tiny foot on her head. The swordsmouse concentrated, struggling with Alice's hair. Queen Mirana glided across the room to assist, her larger hands more adept at braiding. The wedding was due to start and here sat the bride, still in her slip and with only half her hair done! Alice squirmed uncomfortably, her left buttock asleep, as Mallymkun pulled another strand into place…

As the Queen helped her into her dress, she sank into reverie once more, still thinking on who would "give her away." She frowned as she thought of Father, and discreetly pinched herself – maybe if she woke up for just a moment, he would be there to see her wed… But no, even in Wonderland, that impossibility remained impossible… A delicate White hand wiped away the tear she didn't even notice had fallen.

"Now, Alice," Queen Mirana chided gently. "Now is not the time for wedding-day tears – you'll ruin all of Mallymkun's hard work!"

Alice smiled – yes, the little mouse had done an expert job applying the proper cosmetics, just enough to make her natural beauty "pop" a bit more. Her eyes still looked a little moist, but she held it together while Mallymkun and the White Queen laced her corset. She never thought the day would come when she willingly let herself be strapped into one… But she supposed, just for today, it couldn't be that bad. After all, it was her "something borrowed", from Queen Mirana herself!

"Are you ready, Alice?" the gentle voice inquired. "The music has started."

Alice nodded, smiling in a manner no one had seen before – a combination of serenity and determination, with a touch of inscrutability. The Queen smiled back in mysterious understanding and picked up the bride's veil, examining it closely. _Easily his finest work_, she thought before carefully sliding the hat-band onto the crown of Alice's head, draping the front of the veil forward and adjusting the rest. She stepped back and smiled brilliantly.

"Many blessings to you, Champion of Underland," she proclaimed, sweeping from the bridal dressing-chamber.

A moment passed. The music changed.

"It's time to go," Mallymkun informed her unnecessarily.

The double-doors to the grandest assembly-room in the palace opened and Alice was nearly blinded by the explosion of _white _before her. Then she blinked and her eyes adjusted to the very white candlelight. There was no pipe-organ, nor any familiar bridal march, just a collective of string and wind instruments playing a gorgeous processional. Mallymkun started in front of her, combination flower girl and maid of honor, carrying one very large yellow marigold. The mouse stopped at the third row forward and tapped her tiny foot.

Queen Mirana extended a graceful hand, gesturing for Tarrant to look over his shoulder. Quite slowly, he turned around. The rest of the congregation – indeed, the whole kingdom – turned with him, eager to see the bride. Every eye went wide. As Tarrant could think of nothing but the beauty of his bride, courtiers began to whisper: the bride stood alone in the doorway! However, the White Queen's leveling stare silenced them, and then she smiled at Alice.

The bride at last stepped forward, processing up the aisle as regally as the Queen ever could, with her head up proudly. Her fingers clutched nervously at her bouquet of white roses, but the butterflies in her stomach fluttered happily. From behind her veil, she could see her groom's wide eyes, not once taking their gaze off her. Thackery sobbed hysterically, gripping a squirming Mallymkun in his paws – she had not been allowed her hatpin at the wedding, thankfully. Alice beamed at Mr. McTwisp, standing with most dignity beside Tarrant as best man. Finally, she arrived at the altar and exchanged secret glances with her husband-to-be.

"Alice," began the White Queen, enigmatic smile in place. "Who gives you away?"

The bride spoke clearly, for everyone to hear.

"No one," she declared. "I come to marry the man I love of my own free will."

Queen Mirana smiled.

"Very well then."


	6. Fake

_**Disclaimer:**_ **Well, I own the ticket stub I have from seeing the movie a second time. But that's all. I don't actually own anything in, about, or from Wonderland. Except this fic – but you knew that. I own a small plastic dragon, but that's neither here nor there.**

_**A Brief Author's Note: **_**Who else was about to fly into a murderous rage when they saw Tarrant bound and tortured? And who among us is sick enough to admit wanting to see the deleted scene in which said torture is enacted?**

6 - Fake

Alice had lived in a world of fakes since Father died. No one said what they meant, or meant what they said. Mummy kept up with fashion – the fakest of the fake! Ladies old and young plastered on phony smiles as they socially killed their friends and rivals. Gentlemen seemed to be manufactured on stamping-lines, a collection of bored expressions, coattails, and false moustaches for those who couldn't grow their own. Bluntness was looked on with scorn, if not outrage. Of course, it was still possible to be _too _fake – Aunt Imogen proved both case _and _point.

For a moment, Alice wondered: if she had not ventured into Wonderland as a child, would she have turned out that way as well? Might she have dreamed of nothing but marrying a lord? If she had married younger, as her dear sister had, could she have had a philandering husband as well? Perhaps she would have two lovely children who ran her ragged but about whom she never complained? Should she have become a twittering ninny like the twins?

" Fatboys!" the Red Queen called out, resting her feet upon a pig belly.

Remembering that at the moment, she was supposed to be "Um from Umbridge", Alice kept her face as blank as parchment as the Tweedles stumped into the great hall. It made her a little sick to her stomach, watching them fumble about for the amusement of the Red Queen, but she remained silent. When said Queen looked over at her, to be sure she possessed the same sense of amusement, she smiled. It felt repulsive, being so fake. The gathering of toadies giggled snootily, watching the Tweedles continue with their unsure antics.

"Um from Umbridge" must be good at being fake, Alice decided – and a good thing too, considering… She had heard quickly of the Red Queen's tendency for ordering beheadings at the drop of a hat. A shiver trailed down her spine and she pretended to discreetly adjust her dress. No one noticed, too busy twittering like so many English ninnies. Noise, it was – just as useless and mind-numbing as Aunt Imogen's canaries. If she looked correctly, Alice could see the face of Lady Ascot on every one and suppressed a snort of derisive laughter. If anyone detected her slight change in expression, they said nothing.

In England it had been comparatively easy to be fake. As Hamish had told her, when in doubt, she remained silent. Far easier that way, it was, to observe the outrageous fakeness of everyone else around her. Fakeness had its own language. For example, to insult someone, you had to compliment them in the sincerest manner possible. "What a lovely dress, Elizabeth!" she could remember someone exclaiming to a young lady in calico, quite proud of her new frock. They had followed with "The print is so original!" And Alice later figured they meant "That rag is the ugliest piece of refuse I have ever had the misfortune of laying eyes on."

Dismissed by the Red Queen, the Tweedles shuffled from the hall, their nonsensical babbling argument echoing through the hall and punching each other, obviously feeling betrayed. Alice watched them go, a twinge of sadness in her stomach. They were strange little beings, indeed, but they certainly did not deserve such treatment! The exaggerated expressions on the bizarre faces of the Red Queen's toadying courtiers reminded Alice of the looks she had received at parties. Covert looks, whispers behind gloved hands and folding fans – they couldn't say what they thought of her to her face.

The Knave, as Mallymkun had called him, swept in to kneel beside the Queen, informing her of something. Alice listened carefully. It was about a prisoner, and the Knave was frustrated. They needed some sort of information and this prisoner would not crack. Realized, sickened, that they were talking about her.

"Bring him!" cried the Red Queen.

Alice leaned forward in her seat a bit as everyone in the great hall turned their attention to the far double-doors. A couple of frogs dutifully opened said doors and an army of Red Cards spilled into the hall, clanking all over. So far, the whole thing had seemed like a ridiculous pantomime to Alice. First, she wound up standing growing far beyond her normal size and attempting to hide naked behind a bush. From there, she hoodwinked the cruelest person she had ever met – worse than anyone in England, she realized – and somehow wound up favored in a royal court. Beside this god-awful Queen, she sat stunned, clad in a quickly-made dress made out of drapes. It was all part of this dream of hers, growing ever more bizarre. And then her heart dropped into her gut when she saw him.

He had been tortured, she realized. Never before had she encountered a situation like this. She knew what torture amounted to socially, of course. Many times, she had seen young ladies with their faces flaming red, silent, as their peers verbally tormented them. Their hearts could be torn as easily as their flesh! The areas 'round both his eyes had been darkened from physical impact. Chains hung from his wrists and bound his ankles loosely together. Alice felt she might be violently ill. But "Um from Umbridge" did not get sick. This new person, "Um", did not have feelings.

But Alice did… She felt violent hatred for the first time in her life, wanted very much to reach out and slap the Bloody Bighead across the face. Inwardly, she smiled fiercely as the Hatter in his marvelous madness, considering things that began with the letter "M" called Her Majesty a moron and a murderer. The tormented Hatter's eyes, though bruised, gleamed with a strength she only wished she could emulate. She wished she could jump up and begin screaming these things. Instead, though, she sat idly by, her heart feeling like its chambers were slowly filling with ice.

It had never been so hard to be fake…


	7. Control

_**Disclaimer:**_ **Oh yes, of course… I don't see why we have to go through this. It isn't mine.**

_**A Brief Author's Note: **_**Oh my lord! I can't believe this is number 7! on Table 11! No real smut but this one is rated M. So if you're under 18, or whatever the legal age is in your area, or are offended by light bondage that is going to lead to sex, I strongly suggest you leave now.**

7 - Control

The Hatter had never really thought about this kind of thing before, unused to giving up control, but when the idea had struck her and he had agreed to let her, he found that he couldn't be happier. Alice bound his wrists with a silk scarf, a bit tighter than he would have expected she would go for, and pushed him back on her bed. With the sauciest look he had ever seen from her, she placed his bound hands over his head and instructed him to keep them there. Then, she took her sweet time in undoing each shirtfront button, parting the fabric and exposing his pale chest. Surprisingly enough, he wanted her hands upon him so badly that she did more to him by _not _touching his skin as she went.

"This feels so awfully naughty, you know," she informed him, her voice slightly husky.

This semi-innocent statement caused his trousers to tent a bit more and he shifted his body under her, making sure to keep his hands as still as possible. Her narrow-eyed stare saw to that. A grin placated her and she went back to teasing him. A hand came up to scratch him behind one ear like a cat – he had honestly never encountered such a sensation before and it did unusually wonderful things to his body… The two of them heard a raspy laugh and Alice got up to eject the Cheshire Cat from her bedroom, telling the doorknob to keep an eye out for the flying fluffball.

Alice smiled at the state she had the Hatter in – eyes wide, lips parted – and her other hand raked gently down his chest, just barely hard enough graze him. His pale skin marked easily, light red marks showing up from her attentions. Panting tensely, he squirmed at the new feeling, feeling a significant part of his anatomy screaming that it wanted her to do it again, harder. But he decided not to push her, not yet. His muscles tensed as her small fingernails trailed down to his abdomen, almost as an afterthought. She traced her own lips with the tip of her tongue, he watched her hungrily, and she planned her next move.

Tarrant had never seen his beloved Alice like this before! She _knew _what she was doing to him and wasn't letting up anytime soon. A groan passed his painted lips as she inclined her head to press a kiss just above the waistband of his trousers. Her hair, tickling his skin, had him on pins and needles – for a moment, he thought about wriggling out of his bonds and reversing their situation. He wanted her _right now_ . . . But he would wait – he had promised to let her explore. When her tongue trailed over his bare skin, her fingers hooked into his trousers and pulling them back, he lost any semblance of thought.

"Ye wicked tease," he growled, said trousers now uncomfortably tight.

Alice tilted her head at him, smiling.

"Yes, but you like it, don't you?" she asked in her sweetest voice.

_Damn it…_ He almost came undone at that. His eyes blazed red and a rumbling sound echoed in the back of his throat. But then he just couldn't help writhing as the combined touches of her hands and mouth returned to him. Her lips abandoned their teasing and pressed firmly to his, one hand tangling in his hair and the other palm-down against his chest. Again, the half-mad man couldn't help himself. He threw his bound arms 'round her and held her against him.

Quick as a flash, Alice pulled back and returned his hands to where she wanted them.

"I did tell you to keep them there," she reminded him. "Will you do that or shall I hold them?"

The madman inside him told him to stand up, rip through the silk, and toss her down so he could have his way with her. His eyes turned red. But the tamer side of his mind felt such a thrill at the prospect of having her do the very same thing to him that they greened right back up. He let her press his wrists back to the bed and smiled, those green eyes falling half-closed in contentment. Alice grinned, a quirky, almost-impish expression on her, and pushed back to stand beside the bed.

"Keep your eyes on me," she instructed.

Oh, but he couldn't have looked away if he tried. Alice untied the sash on her blue dress – another of his creations – and undid the buttons down the back. Tarrant's eyes widened as the chiffon pooled on the floor and she stepped out of it in nothing but a camisole and knickers. Crawling onto the bed, catlike, she straddled his still-clothed hips and let out a moan as she felt him hard beneath her. Those green eyes rolled back in his head for a moment at such intimate contact with his trousers still on! He wanted to take hold of her hips and aid her in rocking against him, but kept his hands obediently in place.

"Alice, yeh're a bloody wonder," he rasped, pushing his hips against hers. "Dinnae keap me wait'n…"

The blonde giggled – a decidedly devilish sound.

"You can wait a bit longer," she shot back. "I fully intend to take my time with you…"

With a pouting smile in place, she narrowed her eyes again.

"And you'll continue to give me no trouble at all, am I right?" She reached up and clasped both his wrists, pressing them to the bed as she settled her full weight on his hips to make her point.

Tarrant smiled rakishly, once again contemplating turning the tables. Her lips came within an inch of his and she repeated her question, whispering breath tickling him. Once more, his tame side thrilled and he nodded in compliance. The madman inside him slowly gave in as well, those lips being quite persuasive. He couldn't lie. He _enjoyed_ giving her control.


	8. Tender

_**Disclaimer:**_ **I think I may finally be running out of semi-clever ways to tell you people that I do not own anything in these fics but the ideas themselves!**

_**A Brief Author's Note: **_**8****th**** in the LJ 10_prompts community's Table 11. We have another thousand words and this is heavy stuff. It's not smut, though there are sexual references, but there's some masochism, sadism, and enough of it that I think this warrants an M rating.**

8 - Tender

Tarrant found that, sometimes, had to be hurt, just to remind him of reality. He _needed _her to hurt him, to remind him that _she _was real. She hated to hurt him, despised it with all that she had inside her, but, regretfully as sin, she did it for him when he asked. On bad nights, it went as far as making him bleed… But one thing surprised him every single time: Alice Kingsleigh – _his _Alice – could hurt him_ tenderly_. In the back of his mind, he actually – in a sick, twisted, oh-so-very-mad way – looked forward to the nights that it came to this.

"Tarrant, please," she tried to reason with the madman in his mind. "Not tonight, not again…"

She could see the ache in his gaze, the green almost melting with the pained heat building inside him. And she knew, if she didn't do this for him, he would end up doing it himself another time, and he couldn't be trusted not to cause real harm. Not that he'd admit it – she would just find a new, deep scar the next time they made love. The first time it happened, she had been too stunned to say anything. Second time earned him a cuff about the head and a sound tongue-lashing. After the third time, when an inadvertent scratch during a passionate interlude caused bleeding, they came to their present agreement. Yes, she would hurt him… but she would never cause him harm.

"Alice, it hurts," the broken man inside him cried. "It is so very cold in here."

And, biting her lip almost hard enough to draw blood, she dragged her fingernails down his back, very slowly, watching the angry red welts spring up on his pale skin. He groaned, wrapping one arm around her waist and hiding his face against curve of her shoulder. Her fingertips, not her nails, then trailed back up the lines, soothing the immediate sting and sending a deeper burn into his skin. It made his flesh crawl, so he held tighter to her and whimpered as she crossed that set of welts with new ones. Soft lips found the tendon where neck met shoulder, caressing the spot and distracting him from the pain.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered in his ear. "I don't want to hurt you."

The Hatter, poor half-mad creature, gritted his teeth against his insides' gnawing.

"I know," he acquiesced. Truly, it pained him to request such treatment from her. "But please, Alice… Remind me how real you are?"

She disentangled herself from his arms and smiled at him, though her eyes shone funnily, as though she might cry.

"You silly man," she chided gently. "Still think you're dreaming?"

He cocked his head to one side, brow furrowing as in deep thought.

"Part of me wishes very much that I was." He gave an odd, twittering laugh. "Although I believe that part may be my back!"

His smile turned manic, the same frightening smile that she knew she must pull him back from. Words could not reach him – she tried them first anyway – so she steeled herself for what she knew she would have to do next. The Hatter continued to giggle, the sound profoundly disturbing. Alice murmured an apology, brought her hand back, and delivered a sharp slap to his cheek. He yelped and pressed his own hand to the place of impact, looking very confused.

"Not sure I deserved that," he growled in his Outlandish burr, reminding Alice quite a bit of a pirate.

She shook her head, still smiling so sadly.

"You never have," she assured him, carefully moving his hand so that she could stroke the print that stood out, scarlet, from the pale skin of his cheek. "No one deserves to be hurt repeatedly by the one who loves him…"

A new grin spread over his face, this one of mischief and something she couldn't quite place.

"Though some might enjoy it," he quipped, still in his burr. "Please Alice… hurt me. If you can…"

Oh, now he had done it! He always did this! The damnable madman knew that the best way to get her to do something was to tell her or imply that she couldn't do it. Her eyes glittered back into his and his grin turned triumphant. Alice's cheeks turned brilliantly red – he just _had _to con her into this! With him pulled back from her, she had access to his bare chest, but she knew better than to immediately take advantage of that. Face blazing, she leaned in and placed her lips by his ear.

"You know I rise to the challenge every time," she purred, her voice having dropped by half an octave.

Loath as she was to admit it, even to herself, she couldn't help but thrill a bit at inflicting such pain on him – the majority of it came from knowing how he loved it!

"Oh, indeed you do, love," he agreed, one hand steadying him by stroking her blonde curls.

His lover, his tormentor, nipped his earlobe a bit harder than normal, causing him to wince and he moaned as she soothed this small hurt by sucking on it before pulling away. Her mouth found his in a bruising clash of lips and tongues. She pulled back to suck on her teeth when they clacked against his – he did the same. When they met once more, those teeth of hers caught his lower lip, hard enough that, for the first time that night, she drew blood. He growled against her lips as, while one hand wrapped firmly 'round the back of his neck, the other scraped its nails down his chest.

He loved how she hurt him. She hated having to. But either way, they both needed it. Only Alice could hurt him so very tenderly. And Alice knew she only trusted herself with such a delicate task. And as they fell asleep later on, both exhausted in every sense, they smiled as one.


	9. Permanent

_**Disclaimer:**_ **And how many times have I told you fine people that nothing here belongs to me? I own the idea for the fic itself, plus the concept of Baby Grands, but that'd be it!**

_**A Brief Author's Note: **_**We have the next to last, the ninth, in the LJ 10_prompts community's Table 11. One more thousand words – there's some Scottish insults in here (I don't own those either) and an intensely upset Alice. I rate this one T.**

9 - Permanent

"Tarrant!" screeched Alice. "TARRANT HIGHTOPP, GET IN HERE THIS INSTANT!"

She glared back at her reflection in the mirror, running her fingers over the damage he had done, still clad in a towel and dripping on the floor. Her eyes flashed with a fury very few had ever seen. Oh, she had _words _for the infuriating madman! _So _many words she had for him! She could deal with his madness anymore – but _this!? _What in Underland had possessed him to leave that bottle beside her shampoo was completely beyond her. He didn't think on the same page as _anyone _else, that much she could be certain of --- but how much good sense did it take not to leave _THAT _in the bath!?

Tarrant heard the screaming all the way from his workshop. Odd, that was_._ He set aside a miniature top hat to which he had been adding lace and feathers. Now where was that feather-dye? He always worked with bleached-white feathers, adding his own custom colors to his creations. His brow furrowed as he sifted through a container full of colored bottles and he cursed mildly. That was odd too – he could remember having it in his hand as of recently. Again, he heard his name called through Marmoreal, distracting him from his lost feather-dye. Now what could possibly be the problem? Tilting his head, he picked up his hat and put it on smartly as he exited his workshop.

He whistled merrily, vaguely out of tune, as his boots scuffed their way down the long hallway. Satisfied with how well the small top hat had been coming along and eager to get back and add the finishing touches, he wished to deal with the new issue in a timely manner. Perhaps someone he ran into along the way would have his feather-dye! Blue feathers would look wonderful with his Alice's blonde curls! Again, he heard his name and sped up his pace – oddly enough, the commotion seemed come from the bathing-chamber he and his wife shared.

Odd and odder, thought the Hatter – Alice simply never carried on so! Perhaps she had discovered Chessur watching from her mirror? Tarrant began to growl under his breath, muttering old Outlandish curses at the Cat. If he had warned that exasperating feline once to stay out of his wife's bathing-chamber, he had warned him a thousand times! Working himself into a right proper tizzy, the Hatter stormed along the corridor, ready to throw that furball out of the window!

"Oh, Tarrant, you don't _mean _those things," cajoled the Cheshire Cat, grinning self-assuredly at the enraged, red-eyed Hatter.

"Awa' an' bile yer heid!" growled the Hatter in return, one fist clenching.

Realizing that Tarrant was angry enough to swing at him, Chessur evaporated, sniffing that _someone _had quite the temper today! The Hatter continued along. He could still hear the soft, raspy laughter of that damnable Cat, but decided to take the high road and ignore it. The door to the suite he shared with Alice since their marriage swung open. He crossed the room in three long strides and threw the bedroom door open, ignoring the doorknob's protestations.

"I shouldn't go in there, if I were you," remarked the knob on the bathing-chamber's door.

The Hatter was in no mood for games, particularly from gossipy door-fixtures.

"An' why no'?" he grumbled.

If a doorknob could heave a sigh, this one would have.

"If you value your hide---" it began, the rest of what it said muffled by Tarrant's bandaged hand. He twisted said knob and it retaliated in the only way it knew how – it locked itself.

"Why yeh little pain in my arse!" roared the Hatter, raising a fist and beating heavily on the door.

The knob blew a raspberry at him and the invisible Chessur giggled.

"Tarrant, is that you?!" demanded the muffled voice of Alice.

Chessur laughed louder still, but calmed himself.

"Oh, but it seems everyone is testy today," he remarked, ignoring the daggers Tarrant glared at him.

Wanting very much to strangle the wretched feline, the Hatter tried his best to ignore and jiggled the doorknob irritably. At the prospect that he might just wrench the door open and be done with it, the knob clicked and swung open by about an inch. Still growling curses and threats, he pressed one orange eye to the opening. He could not see Alice.

"Tarrant, get in here," he heard his wife grate between clinched teeth.

Without waiting for his reply, the door swung the rest of the way open and he stumbled heavily into the bathing-chamber.

"Why Alice!" he started in a voice much too bright as he got a look at her, his eyes immediately green again. "You look---"

He did not get a chance to say how she looked as he found himself cut off by the pure rage in her eyes.

"Notice anything?" she asked, her tone suggesting that she might explode.

The Hatter, normally so confident in his ability to diffuse her anger, to calm her with words, cast blindly about for the response least likely to get him gutted.

"You've… found my feather-dye?" he ventured.

Her hair hung around her face, long and beautiful… and bright blue.

"So it would seem," she ground out poisonously.

"It's not permanent!" Tarrant exclaimed quickly– he was pretty sure he had dye-remover somewhere…

"IT BETTER NOT BE!" Alice screamed back, clutching her wet curls.

The Hatter swallowed hard, having never tried said remover on human hair before.

"At least I don't _think _so…" He dug himself deeper into the hole. "It _shouldn't _be!"

For a moment, she looked like she might shout at him again, but she stayed perfectly still, an almost serene expression slipping over her face.

"We… shall see," she said finally.

Alice claimed still that, with the exception of Jabberwocky, she did not slay - but she was sorely tempted, at the moment, to _strangle_ this mad Hatter with her bare hands!


	10. Garden

_**Disclaimer:**_ **If you're looking here for a witty disclaimer, you really shouldn't. I don't own anything here, really. Sometimes, when expected to be witty, my mind explodes. Nothing here's mine but the concept of Baby Grands. **

_**A Brief Author's Note: **_**Boo on spring/summer colds – this is all I have to say! Also… here we are, at last, at the last Baby Grand in the LJ community 10_prompts Table 11! Look for another Table to be started in the near future!**

10 - Garden

Spring was forever hailed as a time for new life – rebirth, new babies, sprouting plants and all that kind of thing. The Blooming Season, as they called it in Underland, left nothing to be desired. Soon, there would be jewel-bright colours everywhere as the Tall-flowers dressed in their finest for the Season. Everywhere, everyone buzzed with plans for the great celebration to come tomorrow, the Flower Festival. Music, feasting, tea, and dancing would welcome new Flowers into Underland with style. McTwisp took great pride in getting things organized, bustling everyone about, harrumphing importantly.

And there was Alice, sick as could be, in bed. Even in Underland, it seemed stomach bugs picked the _worst_ times to manifest themselves in all their vomitous glory. Outside her window, she could hear strains of music, laughter, and Underlanders preparing for the Festival. The Flowers sang their own praises, never troubled with modesty. Tarrant had been absolutely beside himself with glee – he couldn't _remember _the last time he'd had this many people to hat! She tried to be happy for him, tried not to complain, and he had assured her that she would be up and about in nothing flat.

"Why we use things that are not flat as a measure of the shortness of time is beyond me," he'd added, earning a rather soggy giggle, not making her forget that she had been sick for three full days.

Nothing, though, could make Alice feel better right now. It was the first day of the Blooming Season and she didn't feel better in the slightest. True, she had stopped throwing up – and she supposed that counted as a good thing – but an icky feeling washed over her if she so much as sat up for too long. Propping up on pillows was one thing, but holding herself up made her three kinds of dizzy. More sounds of happiness and merriment assaulted her ears and she stuck her fingers in them, scowling. It was bad enough being sick, but did she really have to listen to everyone else's fun?

Before long – too long, in her opinion – she ended up falling asleep, alone and miserable.

* * *

The next morning dawned much too early. Alice groaned at the sun as it shone obstinately in her face. Outside, she could hear happy birds chirping away as the Tall-flowers started bright and early in singing about last night's festivities. It was as if the world just had to rub in her face that she had not been part of it. She turned over and pulled Tarrant's pillow over her head, sighing unhappily at finding him gone, but not being terribly surprised by it.

She fell back into a fitful sleep.

"'lice..." she heard a familiar voice through the pillow. "Alice?"

Alice groaned once more. She could not find it in herself to be grateful for his concern this morning – being sick had taken too much out of her and, frankly, she was just put out with the world. The voice's owner pulled the pillow from her hands. In no mood for it, she covered her head with her own pillow, pressing her face into the mattress. A hand patted her backside and she growled sleepily. Unperturbed, that same hand removed her pillow and she felt the side of the bed sink down – maybe if she ignored him, he would go away...

"Alice, I do wish you would wake up," the soft voice of her lover crooned, his lisp almost returning, in her ear. "You will find someone has... left a rather marvellous gift for you!"

Though she remained mightily irritated with him, the excitement in his voice was irresistibly catching. Her neck popped unpleasantly as she craned around to glare at him. He sat on the edge of her bed, smiling hopefully. Still blinking irritably, she turned over on her back and allowed him to help her sit up. Her mood lightened considerably at the realization that she could do so without feeling dizzy or terribly sick. Seeing his opening, Tarrant took the opportunity to kiss his lover's pale cheek – it might take her a day or two to get her colour back.

Suddenly, Alice's half-closed eyes shot wide open and her jaw dropped as she caught a look at her room. She had never seen so many white roses in one place – and certainly not in her bedroom! Her entire room was a sea of perfect blossoms, each as white as new-fallen snow. Only a path that led to her window, to her wardrobe, to her bathing-chamber, and out the door was left clear. She felt dizzy once more, but not in the sick way, as the roses' heady scent surrounded her. For a long few moments, she simply goggled, taking the sight in.

"They all bloomed this morning," Tarrant's voice broke into her thoughts. "And – well, it was a mad idea, really – I figured that, with you abed these past three days, I should bring the garden in to you!"

As white as the roses were, so red did Alice's cheeks turn!

"I should kiss you," she croaked, voice still hoarse from sleep and repeated sickness, smiling weakly at him.

His tentative smile became a decidedly roguish grin – apparently uncaring of catching anything, he kissed her.

"If you're feeling that much better, dear," he began, taking her hand. "Perhaps you might accompany me to the Festival today and the Feast tonight?"

"I'm confused." Alice tilted her head. "I thought they already happened. Has time gone... _funny_ on us again?"

The Hatter smiled genuinely.

"Yes," he told her – and it was true. "But that was only the first day of the Blooming Season. We celebrate for three!"

Alice smiled one of the prettiest smiles he had ever seen – never mind her bleary eyes and rather pallid skin...

"Of course, if the Feast itself is too much," Tarrant continued, voice lowering and eyebrows quirking suggestively. "We could always stay in..."

"I rather like our private garden," Alice giggled. "Thank you, love."


	11. Blood

_**Disclaimer:**_ **Nope, this is still not mine. Not In the slightest. I'm just borrowing the characters to play with them for awhile. I'll put them back when I'm done and they'll be thoroughly mishandled. All I own is the concept for Baby Grands.**

_**A Brief Author's Note: **_**I've come to a new prompt table in the LiveJournal community 10_prompts. Say hello to Table 4! This one, I warn you, is about bloodplay. There's no explicit sex, but I'm going to give it an M-rating for the same reason as "Tender".**

1 - Blood

The Hatter barely noticed it much anymore when he made himself bleed - it was just part of the trade, after all. His tools could be such recalcitrant little buggers! Hatpins had a peculiar affinity for sticking into almost anything but what they were supposed to, particularly fingertips. His beloved shears slipped on occasion. The rare craft knife sometimes did more than graze unprotected skin. While working, he tended to ignore anything that wasn't going to drip on his projects. Afterwards, he either bandaged things himself or Alice came to do it for him. But it wasn't something he tended to focus terribly on.

Alice, on the other hand, found herself fascinated by it.

* * *

Outside, a thunderstorm raged, the kind with thunderclaps that sounded right over the castle and flung hailstones at the windows. Lightning strikes lit up a sky obscured by freezing rain and angry clouds. The Tall-flowers shrieked and tried to duck away from the falling ice. Anyone unlucky enough to be caught outside quickly ran for the nearest immediate shelter. Animals protected themselves from the unfortunate weather in whatever manner they could.

And inside, Tarrant curled into Alice's arms, having another mad episode – one of the worst he could remember in quite some time. Normally, Alice proved a rock of stability for him, but a thunder phobia that lingered from her childhood had turned her into a shaking wreck as well. The two held each other as best they could, protective instincts dead even with fear and madness. Tarrant had Alice pressed against him with one arm 'round her, his face hidden in her neck with her hand threaded into his hair. Alice tried her best to whisper words of comfort in his ear, but squeaked every time the cannonade of thunder exploded overhead.

Neither of them could say when, but his hand crept into his pocket and located his sharpest craft knife – little more than a razor blade in a handsome wooden handle. With his eyes wide, feeling that bite of internal need, he pulled his lover back and pressed the instrument into her hand. She swallowed hard and nodded in painful understanding. Her free hand, she slid under his chin, kissing him gently as his bandaged fingers undid his shirt-buttons. She knew what he needed and, though she could not claim herself completely used to it, did not feel the usual burgeoning sickness.

"Lie back," she instructed in a low, breathy voice she barely recognized as her own.

Those wide, staring eyes turned the odd violet colour that occurred when one mixed true red with green, almost like theatre lighting. Tarrant did as she said, leaning into Alice's pillows, not quite back entirely, so that he could brace his hands against the bed. He clenched his teeth as once again, thunder ripped the sky apart with lightning on its tail. Alice's lips caressed his cheek as she reassured him before pulling back for the sake of concentration. The blade's edge kissed his skin just as tenderly, not even scratching the pale surface yet. He tried his best not to writhe as she repeated the light touch.

Alice braced herself, never able to truly prepare for this part, and applied slight pressure – just enough to slice in and barely draw blood. The liquid redness oozed up from the small cut and Tarrant groaned aloud, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. His lover smiled, a peculiar expression, thinking of how much he must trust her. Apparently though, her pause had been too long, because he took her hand in his and pulled the blade back to his chest.

"Again?" she asked, still in that odd voice, tracing his pale skin with the tip of the blade.

"Please," he growled hoarsely.

He gasped as she swiped the blade over his skin once more. The need in his voice did not escape her notice, nor did the tenting in the front of his trousers. Blood flowed more quickly from this new slice, about an inch long. Alice sat back on her heels, watching the small red trail course down his skin and, on impulse, kissed it away. The taste certainly wasn't bad, but something inside of her twisted at the wrongness of the situation. She did this only because he needed it – not because she _enjoyed _it! Tarrant, for his part, nearly came undone at seeing his dear Alice's lips coated thusly.

"Just once more... please love," he coaxed, fear almost edged out by intense _want_.

Alice shook her head.

"No," she breathed.

His eyes turned crimson – now was _not _the time to play with him and she knew it! A soft smile momentarily placated him as she took his hand and pressed the wooden handle into it. For a moment, his countenance darkened in question. What in the world did she want from him in this state? Alice did not have to think about it, just brought his hand to her chest, pushing the neckline of her nightie aside. She took a deep breath as the metal, warm from him, touched her skin for the first time.

"Your turn," she whispered as she nicked herself on purpose, biting back a gasp.

With her eyes closed, she couldn't see how his, the same colour as her blood, watched the tiny drop fall, but she certainly felt his lips come to capture it... His hands were considerably more practiced at this sort of thing than hers and she shivered at the thought. She paused long enough to pull her nightgown off and fling it in a corner, and then his hands were on her. One arm cradled her while the other guided the blade between her breasts. Her eyes fell half-closed as she watched small droplets of blood spring up there. Looking up, she found his eyes locked on hers in deep concern mixed with want. As their lips met, Tarrant could only think of how erotic it was – tasting his blood on her lips, the storm forgotten.


	12. Passion

_**Disclaimer:**_ **Hmm… it is entirely too late at night where I am to come up with a witty disclaimer. For now – Alice/Hatter/what-have-you ain't mine. The concept for Baby Grands is. If you want to use it, ask me.**

_**A Brief Author's Note: **_**And now, we continue the LJ 10_prompts community's Table 4 and a thousand words of smut. I don't really know how I managed to make two Chapter 2's in a row into smut. This one is rated M. So if you're under 18, or whatever the legal age is in your area, or are offended by sex, I strongly suggest you leave now.**

2 - Passion

It was some sort of official to-do tonight and Queen Mirana had made it crystal clear that they were both expected to be there – Alice as Champion of Underland, Tarrant escorting her. However, as things usually went, when the Hatter turned up at his beloved's door, he found her nowhere near ready to go! Innocently enough, he offered to help her get ready. Alice gratefully accepted, still with little idea of how to dress herself for a formal event in Underland. Truly, the man had a dizzying fashion sense – most of it she likely would have chosen herself, if not in the same combinations…

She started to struggle into a long, sapphire blue gown with an off-the shoulder neckline, but remembered that she still hadn't taken her hair out of its nightly braid. So while she fiddled with that, half in her dress and half out of it, Tarrant decided to help. Perhaps his hands slipped, or perhaps he just found her irresistible, but she felt his touch 'round her waist and couldn't suppress the small gasp. His lips had found the sensitive spot in the hollow of her throat. She leaned into his touch and the task at hand became getting her back _out_ of the dress!

Leaving the sapphire silk in a heap on the floor, he carried her to bed in naught but her chemise and laid her back before shrugging out of his jacket and dropping it. Her fingers found the buttons of his shirt, she giggled at his lips on her ear, and she soon had him divested of that as well. He let it drop to land with his jacket and pushed the chemise's wide neckline down over her shoulders, kissing soft skin. Only a little awkwardly, she managed to get his trousers off. He pulled back only long enough to remove shoes and socks before joining her in bed.

She pulled her nails slowly down his back as his fingers found her center – they wasted no time at all in dragging deep, pleasurable sounds out of each other.

"Right now?" gasped Alice, squirming against his touch.

"Right now," agreed the Hatter, pushing his hardness against her.

As soon as she said "yes," he thrust into her. She couldn't hold back a moan, her hands gripping his shoulders and nails scoring his flesh. His arms held her tightly to him as he panted in her ear, whispering all sorts of filthy things to her. Yes, they had been making love in secret for quite some time, but he never failed to induce a virgin-esque blush in her cheeks. Alice thought for a moment, storing the contemplation away for later memory, that perhaps she ought to do the same to him someday! Heat built inside her and coherent thought vacated her mind as his teeth found her neck, biting down hard.

Tarrant couldn't help himself – he knew that technically, they shouldn't be doing this, but in his half-madness, he frankly didn't care. He loved Alice and of course he intended to have her as his forever! Whether he remembered to give her a ring or they just continued in sinful bliss, it didn't matter. They were both close. His already-doubted capacity for coherency left him as well as Alice finished, causing his own release.

"I should have known that one day I would catch you two in the throes of passion," drawled the voice of the Cheshire Cat. "Couldn't have waited for a ring now, could you?"

Alice shrieked and grasped wildly at the tangle of sheets and blankets, trying to pull enough of them up to cover herself. The Hatter toppled off the bed in surprise, mostly at his lover's very sudden movement, and remained on the floor, fuming. Chessur just floated through the room, just outside the range that Alice could decently aim a thrown projectile, his trademark grin gleaming annoyingly. A stream of black curses in several languages cropped up from Tarrant, who hadn't bothered to get up.

"Chessur, it occurs to me that you might very well make a lovely HAT," Alice threatened, glowering at the hovering feline. "Perhaps it would even have evaporating powers!"

Deep chuckling sounded from the other side of the bed.

"I suppose there's on'y one wa' t' find ou'," growled the half-mad, extremely angry Hatter.

Chessur turned his head upside down.

"Temper, Sir Hightopp," he replied, wafting his half-mist body towards the door.

"GIT YE GONE, YEH FOUL O' THING!" roared the last of the Hightopp clan, managing to look quite fearsome from his place on the floor.

With a small, huffy noise, the Cat wisely evaporated out through the door. The two surprised lovers continued to sit for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. No doubt, the Cat would have it spread all over the castle in a matter of moments what they had been doing. It wasn't that Alice particularly cared what people thought anymore. And certainly scandals of such… _scandalous_ nature were nothing new in the White Court. But still – Castle Marmoreal et al didn't need to know everything she and Tarrant did behind closed doors! Tarrant himself just continued to grumble in the Outlandish dialect, flaying the Cat verbally in every way he knew.

Surprisingly enough, Alice broke the mutual reverie.

"Tarrant, darling?" she asked abruptly.

She heard a grunted "_…fez._"

"Yes dear?" he replied, the burr gone.

Her pretty face lit in a new sort of smile – he could barely see from the floor, but he knew her expressions, so he could imagine.

"Let the damnable Cat say what he will," she practically purred. "No sense letting it ruin _our _evening."

Tarrant sat up a bit straighter, cocking an eyebrow at her.

"What're ye sayin', love?" The burr returned in an instant.

"Come back to bed," crooned Alice. "I'm nowhere near through with you…"

He rejoined her on the bed, intent on picking up right where they had left off – they could fix it up with Her Majesty later…


	13. Ring

_**Disclaimer:**_** I don't own Alice in Wonderland – although I did finally get the old Disney version on DVD recently! I don't own anything, really – just a few old books by a very special man.**

_**A Brief Author's Note:**_** This Baby Grand, number 4 in the LJ community 10_prompts, is the most cracked-out of any Baby Grand to date. Just a little bit of silliness prompted by thinking of Dr. Seuss while cleaning my own bathtub. Tub rings are annoying, aren't they?**

13 - Ring

Alice dropped her dress in the clothesbasket, reached for the knob and, just before turning said the one on the left, with the "H" on it, she noticed _it_. She withdrew her hand before touching anything. There, around the interior of the tub – about halfway up the sides – glared a violently pink ring. _What in the world?_ She thought furiously. Even in Underland, when a bathtub turned strange colors, it made one deeply consider bathing elsewhere. So she stood there, peering at the once-white porcelain in a combination of disbelief, exasperation, and plain befuddlement.

"Tarrant?" she called, hoping he hadn't left just yet.

A shock of red-orange hair poked in through the bathroom door – Alice didn't even bother reaching for her dressing-gown, choosing instead to just stand there in camisole and knickers. She had a good idea that she was looking at the direct cause of the stain in her bathtub. What she didn't know, and wasn't sure if she wanted to, was how _it _got there.

"What is this?" she asked, trying to remain as calm as possible as she gestured at _it_.

Tarrant glanced suspiciously at Alice, and then stepped fully into the bathing-chamber, trying to figure out what she wanted – he couldn't see _it _right off.

"What's what, love?" he asked carefully, thankful that everything on Alice seemed to be its proper color and in its right place – last time still stuck out painfully in his mind. He certainly hoped this wasn't to be a repeat of… Well, the thought made his skin crawl uncomfortably. Then he got a good look at _it_. "Oh… _that_."

Alice took a wide step away from the bathtub, pointing at it. Slightly nervous – he could sense something not-right, but had no idea what it could be – the Hatter sidled over to the tub. His beloved raised both eyebrows, gesturing once more at said tub, as if it had somehow offended her. He wrinkled his nose and stretched his neck as far as would go, trying to see inside the tub without stepping closer. The blonde sniffed in frustration – could he not see _it_!

"Yes, that," she confirmed a bit waspishly, pointing at _it_. "What is _that_?"

Ah! He must have seen _it_, because he tilted his head and she watched a thoughtful expression cross his face. Tarrant tilted his head, first to one side, then to the other, still apparently deep in thought. He frowned deeply and walked to the head of the tub. A soft '_hmm_' escaped his lips as he took the few steps back to where he started, having carefully looked the tub up and down. Then he sprang up as if something had bitten him!

"Well?" asked Alice, tilting her head at him in genuine curiosity – annoyance aside, she really did want to know what _it_ might be.

"This -" he proclaimed, gesturing grandly at the tub. "- is a big, long, pink Cat ring! And…"

Alice did not look at all amused. He looked back at the tub, at _it_.

"Oh dear…" he murmured. "What a thing…"

Alice blinked rapidly, as if attempting to stave off a headache – she just wanted to take a bath, for heaven's sake!

"A Cat ring?" she repeated, her voice a bit thin.

He nodded vigorously, now a bit more certain that he wasn't immediately in trouble for this – mad as he was, he certainly still possessed a healthy fear of an angry significant other.

"A Cat ring!" he exclaimed, smiling brightly.

She mouthed the words silently back at him, apparently still trying to wrap her mind around what he said – also contemplating giving him a sharp smack upside that wild head of his. _Oh well_, she thought wearily. It wasn't like it was the first time he had unintentionally turned something some strange colour. At least this time it had nothing to do with her person, she thought with no small degree of relief.

"Well, that explains so much," she said dryly, hands now on her hips. "Would you mind explaining to me, dear, what precisely _is _a Cat ring?"

She glowered at the pink ring around her bathtub's interior, then at the Hatter, tilting her head and waiting for an explanation. Tarrant raised one hand and opened his mouth to give her exactly that, though he did fully intend to gloss over a few minor, if inconvenient details. However, he and Alice both jumped when a raspy, irritated voice cut in.

"It is apparently what happens when one runs a bath whilst a partially-evaporated Cat is trying to take a nap," Chessur grumped, greatly relieved that neither of them had seen him materialize from the mirror.

Tarrant opened his mouth and produced a stream of what Alice could only guess to be curses, obscenities, and insults in that dialect she still couldn't wrap her head around. The Cat fired back and the two were soon occupied with a full explosion of bickering. However, it cut itself short when Alice cleared her throat sharply. She had quickly put two and two together and managed to deduce exactly how her bathtub had wound up its present colour. Chessur and the Hatter both turned their heads like reprimanded schoolboys.

"Well, gentlemen," she began, her voice businesslike. "Now we've established what this is… which of you is going to be removing this Cat ring and returning my bathtub to its proper shade?"

A paw and a hand pointed, each at the other. Tarrant glared at the Cat, who only grinned back, the expression taking up a good half of his furry face. Alice heaved a sigh and thought briefly about scrubbing an exasperated hand across her own visage.

"I thought so," she deadpanned, turning for the door and grabbing her dressing-gown. "I'll be back in half an hour."

One didn't have to be very sane or very smart to hear the unspoken promise of "_woe betide you if there is a __**ring**__, Cat or otherwise, in this tub when I get back._"


	14. Eternal

_**Disclaimer:**_** For witty disclaimers, please visit Alicia Blade – she's written my favorite Sailor Moon fanfics. I don't own anything except this ultra-soft pink T-shirt. And the epic blue dress in my closet – it'll be an Alice cosplay eventually.**

_**A Brief Author's Note: **_**This Baby Grand, tenth and last in the LJ community 10_prompts, is dedicated to my brother Jareth. When seeing "Alice" for the first time, I cried when she said goodbye to the Hatter… Ended up in a text conversation with said brother, quite soggy, and he said to me the words that became the last line of this ficlet.**

10 - Eternal

It was the silliest thing, really, how she had acquired the tiny mark. She and Tarrant had been fooling around and those knickers and that camisole had been in quite poor condition anyway… He had surprised her! Certainly if she'd known him to be planning something, she would have worn more attractive under-things. She hadn't expected he'd reach for the ever-present scissors! When he'd gone to remove the camisole, she'd frozen, completely shocked. The plain cotton fell in shreds, causing her jaw to drop at his boldness. As his mouth turned its attention to her chest, he managed to nick her hip as he meant to cut her knickers away. He had, of course, apologized profusely and kissed the small nick – barely deep enough to bleed – until getting distracted by the delicious wetness between her thighs.

The rest, as they said, was history.

* * *

Alice had picked at it for weeks. The scab kept forming and every time she bathed, she picked it off. She didn't really know why – that was just what one did with scabs. Perhaps, subconsciously, she enjoyed his continued attention as, every time he saw the small mark, he kissed it as though it were fresh. She had assured him that it didn't even hurt the first time and it certainly didn't now, but when did he listen? Either way, the scab continued to form and each time, got picked away.

Of course, then said scab stopped coming back. Alice noticed the small, smooth pink mark on her hip as she removed her knickers before stepping into the bath. Deep in not-thinking, she traced the small imperfection with careful fingertips. The small scab had become a permanent scar.

Curiouser and curiouser, she thought. Even the slices left in her arm by the Bandersnatch had long since faded away. It seemed things in Wonderland went one of two ways – incredibly fleeting or incredibly permanent. Alice's brow furrowed as an extremely unpleasant thought crossed her mind: which way would this relationship between she and Tarrant go?

Now that she really thought about it, she might have made a horrid choice in staying here! She stepped carefully into the bath and sank into the hot water, watching it steam. Her stomach churned – he could descend fully into his madness TOMORROW and never return! Though she assured him she had long discounted the possibility, she might indeed wake up to find that Wonderland had only been a dream! If that happened, maybe, as he had said before she left for China, she wouldn't remember him! What would happen to them, to _him_, if she never returned?

Queen Mirana seemed to be one of those permanent structures in Underland. Perhaps she would know how to answer this question? But no, Alice thought, it wouldn't do to bother the good Queen with the insecurities of a young woman. She sank deeper into the water, up to her chin, just as she had done as a small child. The hot water comforted her, smelling lightly of white roses and whatever it was that Tarrant bathed with – she had never been able to place the scent, slightly piney and smoky, but not. For a moment, she found herself able to simply close her eyes and forget her thoughts.

She did not notice the eerie green cat's eyes blinking curiously at her from the mirror in her bathing-chamber. Privately, the Cheshire Cat figured it better for all involved that she remained oblivious, particularly of how many times he had visited this spot, conveniently during her baths. The green orbs rolled back, the evaporating Cat re-vaporating himself into Queen Mirana's kitchen. Once there, after dodging a barrage of silverware, he found the good Queen bustling about her apothecary. Chessur rolled carefully through the air, still avoiding flying spoons, coming to hover beside Mirana's left shoulder.

"Good day, Sir Chessur," she greeted in that ethereal voice – the Cat couldn't help but purr in return. "What concerns my beloved Cheshire Cat?"

True, the occasion was rare that Chessur took much notice of anything but something he personally wanted – it wasn't a flaw, just how Cats were.

"It concerns Alice… rrrowr… dear Queen," he rumbled, pausing to purr and roll his head to the side as she scratched him behind one ear. "I seem to have overheard something that… mrowr… concerns our Champion verrrry deeply."

A knowing expression lit upon the White visage and she frowned briefly.

"I trust you have not been peeping on her in the bath… again?" she chided him. Chuckling, the Cat shrugged his fuzzy shoulders and swished his tail. Mirana mentally rolled her eyes at his version of an innocent grin. "I should have known. Nevertheless, what concerns our Champion?"

She watched as Chessur floated directly above her work-table, his body right side up and his head upside down, the only way he reasonably could frown.

"She doubts again, Majesty," he told her. "Has been talking to herself in the bath – but I didn't just say that! – talking about these doubts."

Mirana graciously ignored the context of the statement.

"And what are these doubts, good Chessur?" she inquired with the patience of a saint.

"Perrrrrmanence, yourrr Majesty," he replied. "She seems to think she's dreaming again… Most of it concerns our dearrrrr Hatter."

The White Queen nodded, continuing to mix ingredients – the forming solution smelled a bit like baking scones with a touch of cranberry sauce.

"If you can find a _tactfu_l way to do so, please relay this information, Chessur," she instructed the Cat, watching him idly dip his tail in a bowl of powdered sugar, then transfer the sweetness to his mouth. "No matter what happens, she will be irresistibly drawn here. Yes, she may be called away again – that is always a possibility, and a sad one at that. It will be particularly hard on Sir Hightopp to come to terms with this."

The Cheshire Cat nodded.

"But Alice's adventures in Underland are an eternal institution," Mirana continued. "They'll be together forever."


End file.
